


Patchwork

by amuk



Category: DOGS - Fandom
Genre: Community: 31_days, Friendship, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-23
Updated: 2013-01-23
Packaged: 2017-11-26 13:41:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/651093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amuk/pseuds/amuk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nill spends three days in her room, stitching.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Patchwork

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: 8. Her Reason

She spends three days in her room, diligently looking through the book. It’s old and worn and sometimes no help at all, but it’s all she has and so she uses it with care. The first few pages are the one she sticks to, mimicking their pictures as goes.

 

The pads of her fingers ache by the second day and bleed by the third. They are littered with holes by now and she wouldn’t be surprised if you could see her bones through them.

 

(Pain has a way of making things feel worse.)

 

Haine isn’t back by the end of the third day and she knows her time is nearly up. He usually isn’t gone that long.

 

There’s a part of her she thinks would crumble if he was gone for over a week. Bishop brings in food every now and then, knowing from his first few attempts that she won’t leave until she’s done.

 

She’s sitting cross-legged, her book on her right and his clothes on her left when he returns. The string is dangling between her teeth and she’s trying to gauge where the needle’s eye is. It gleams, a little, this metallic fiend, and she pushes the thread through. Carefully, carefully, and then finally she finishes off the patch.

 

When Nill comes out, Haine’s sleeping on the pew. Or at least, his eyes are closed. The way he reacts when anyone comes near makes her wonder if he even knows how to sleep, how to close his eyes and just relax.

 

“What were you doing?” He’s not really curious, she knows. Just asking for the sake of asking.

 

Still, she feels oddly pleased and holds up his old shirt expectantly.

 

He stares at it, an eyebrow raised. “What the hell?”

 

It’s not that bad. She frowns lightly. The patches are sewn in unevenly and maybe different scraps of cloth have been used. It’s still something. It’s better than that button she did two weeks ago and better yet than that cuff she tried to hem in yesterday.

 

“That’s a piece of work.” He doesn’t swear that much around her. “Who the hell would want to wear that?”

 

Well, she could reply, you could. Instead, she skulks out the door and looks for her abandoned brush. When she looks back in the room, he’s trying on the shirt, swearing and muttering the whole time.

 

That pleased feeling swells.


End file.
